“Fire?Escaped,” Ivan squeaked. Wrong buzzwords. We sat in uncomfortable silence. I wondered if I should just tell him we were indeed the deranged killers he feared we were. Maybe not knowing was the real issue here, and he’d calm down, relieved to have the question answered.
“Why are the other two not waking up? I didn’t smell alcohol,” he said. I leaned even closer, my fingers tapping an inch from where his arm rested. He jerked back.
Vomiting sounds came from the back of the vehicle, interrupting my murder. The fear vanished from the driver’s face, replaced by anger.
“You said he wouldn’t throw up!”
“Whoops.” Orson shrugged and then attacked swiftly, going for the man’s throat with his fangs out. I lunged for the steering wheel and did what any jackass who’s never driven a car would do: I jerked it back and forth. The car zigzagged on the road. The driver screamed and pressed the gas pedal.
Orson paused drinking from the man.
“Baz, stop, you look ridiculous.”
“You have blood all over your face, and I’m the one who looks ridiculous?” I snapped. Then we slammed into a tree. The driver flew. Probably wasn’t the best idea to display that skill through glass. I looked out the hole in the windshield.
Nemo growled and shoved himself over the top of the seats, crawling up towards Orson.
“I’m murdering Orson,” he spat.
“I think we killed the Uber driver,” I commented, staring at the human lump on the ground outside.
“Someone else is here?” Nemo spat in a sudden rage. Veins throbbed in his neck as his eyes darted around. Blown out pupilsstared at us. He crawled over the seats, pushing into Orson and Bree’s space. He looked like a drugged animal, desperately stomping all over them as he tried to figure out how to open a door. Once he managed to get out of the vehicle, he ran to where the driver had massacred his landing.
“He’s losing it,” I mumbled.
“And you’re going to keep causing trouble,” Orson snapped.
“Is that why you drugged us?”
“I wanted to lay low until we got to the house,” he sighed. Orson opened the door and got out. A moment later, he slid into the driver's seat and began backing up. Nemo suddenly popped back up, covered in blood. He leapt into the vehicle, taking Orson’s old seat in the back next to Bree.
“That guy won’t be an issue.” His eyes were wild, and the lower half of his face was covered in blood and gummy bits of organ meat.
“No shit,” I commented. I pressed the music button again. They were still warning everyone about our presence in the community. I sighed and turned it off while Orson maneuvered the battered vehicle back onto the road. He shuffled around the car until he found a pair of sunglasses to slip on, protecting his eyes from the wind coming through the hole in the windshield. An uncomfortable silence was filled by the sound of rushing air.
I peered back at Nemo. His pupils were still too large and trying to track the rapidly moving trees, as if hunting for enemies everywhere. His knuckles were white as he gripped the door handle. Eventually, he pulled a still sleeping Bree into his lap.
I played with the electronic brick I’d ripped off the console while no one was looking. It kept making alarming alerts and grating noises. I was trying to figure it out, but it all made little sense to me. Orson eventually saw it in my hands, and his eyesbugged. Immediately, he ripped it from my hands and tossed it from the window.
“Hey!” I snapped. He glared at me, and I slumped in the chair, choosing to remain quiet.
Up ahead, a red neon sign glowed lonely in the night, preaching vacancy at the Sleep Tight Motel. Orson pulled the vehicle around to the back, off to the side, and away from any other cars. He made sure the mangled front was facing the trees.
When he cut the engine, the weight of our combined silence settled in. Why did things feel so tense?
“That announcement on the radio isn’t good,” Orson said. “Supra is probably after us already.” He pulled some things from his pocket, cataloging what he had. Money, an ID card with his picture but the wrong name, and a cell phone. My eyes slid back to where the electronic brick had been, and I realized it was probably some type of phone, too. Though I'd never seen one that didn't flip open and have buttons.
“You two stay here with Bree. I'll go rent a room for us.” Orson slid out of the car and walked around the corner of the building. The back of the Sleep Tight Motel had a series of well-spaced doors. The only thing that broke them up was a couple of large glowing boxes trapped inside a metal cage. One had pictures of canned drinks, and the other had a transparent window, displaying bags of food.
Nemo twisted around in the seat, looking out the back window. As strange as everything looked to me, I could only imagine how much stranger it was for him. I didn't know a ton about the world, having spent the first decade of my life essentially locked up in a mansion. Still, compared to Nemo, it was a massive leap in experience.
I left him to eyeball the surroundings and pulled out the journal Levi had given me. As my brain slowly stretched for forgotten words, I eventually limped through a couple pages.There wasn’t a list of crimes or blueprints for the nightmare asylum he’d built. There were no mad ravings or ranting manifestos from the man Levi said was the mastermind behind all of this.
It was about love.
Damien D'Bolique had written page after page about adoration and devotion. The sort of love that sounded like worship.
I didn’t know what to make of that.
